Chapter Six
Cerys grasped handfuls of Santiago’s hair and kissed him for all she was worth. Giddy shock turned to desperate pleasure as he explored her mouth—conquering her with a purpose which made her yearn.
She wasn’t sure how everything had changed on a single heartbeat, from panic and temper to vicious need and validation. But it felt so life-affirming, she was not going to question it.
He wanted her to stay at the castillo as a guest, to be Ana’s friend rather than her paid companion. But so much more than that, Santiago wanted her —the way she now understood she had always wanted him.
She feasted on his lips as his arms wrapped around her. The ridge of his erection pressed against her. She squirmed, wanting, needing more—although she wasn’t entirely sure what.
He jerked his head away suddenly. His dark gaze scoured her face before he deposited her on the kitchen table.
Her breathing was so rapid her head was spinning. Was he done? Was that it?
She was ready to beg when he rasped, ‘I want to see all of you.’
She bounced her head in a rapid nod.
He clasped her neck, his thumb stroking the pulse hammering against her collarbone.
‘Say the words,’ he demanded. His callused palm rode up her thigh, under the chiffon, to drag her to the edge of the table.
‘Yes, yes,’ she gasped.
His lips found the pulse under her ear as he wrenched down the gown’s thin strap. The sound of rending fabric filled the room.
‘Wait, Ana’s dress…’ she managed, her head angling instinctively to give his mouth more access.
‘I will buy her another,’ he murmured, his voice hoarse, as he tore the bodice to free her breasts from the inbuilt bra.
He swore in Spanish, his eyes becoming glassy as his gaze raked over her swollen flesh.
He cupped her heavy breasts, then bent to suck one hardening nipple into his mouth.
She sobbed, the sharp drawing sensation so exquisite she could feel it deep in her abdomen as he tormented one breast, then the other.
She thrust her fingers into his dark silky hair, to hold him to her, to demand more.
Her breathing became laboured, the need more so as arrows of sensation shot from her breasts to her core.
He hooked her legs over his hips to rub the ridge in his pants at the melting, aching place between her thighs.
Her breath heaved as she clung onto his shoulders, the sensations too much and yet not enough. She felt trapped, devoured, tormented, the pleasure persuasive, provocative, painful, the aching empty space at her core hungry to be filled.
As if he had read her mind, he lifted her into his arms to carry her to the open staircase, murmuring something in a language she didn’t understand.
‘I don’t… I don’t speak Catalan,’ she whispered, kissing his cheek, his jaw.
‘ Vamos arriba …’ he murmured, caressing her bottom, the erection still pressed intimately against the place now yearning for relief. ‘Upstairs,’ he repeated in English. ‘We must find a bed.’
He took the stairs two at a time to reach a mezzanine level.
A huge bed took up most of the sparsely furnished space.
A large open window looked out across the orchard, the lights from the castillo and the party they had left what felt like a lifetime ago sparkled through the trees.
The scent of a citronella candle burning on the window ledge provided the only light in the shadowy room.
He dropped her on the bed to kick off his shoes, drag off his jacket. He ripped off his shirt and tie, then went to work on his trousers.
She propped herself on her elbows to watch, her breath catching.
Her excitement surged. She’d thought he looked good in clothes, but without them… Oh, wow!
She devoured the sight of taut roped muscles, defined pecs, the ridged abs divided by a happy trail of dark hair.
His sleek tanned skin gleamed in the candlelight.
The vicious hunger flared, along with the ripple of trepidation, when he fished a foil packet out of his pocket, then shoved off his trousers.
The erection, so long and thick, thrust towards his belly button from the nest of dark hair at his groin while he rolled on the condom.
Had she ever seen anything so magnificent…? Or so intimidating? She swallowed, her throat thickening with anticipation, and panic. She didn’t think so.
He climbed on the bed, caging her in, pressing her back. His lips nuzzled her neck as he dragged off the torn dress and her panties.
She clasped her arm over her breasts, suddenly shy, instinctively aware no man had ever seen her this naked before.
‘No, Cerys, do not cover yourself,’ he murmured.
She shivered as he lifted her arm free, her breasts heavy under that scalding gaze. He skimmed his thumb under a thrusting nipple, still wet from his mouth.
‘I must kiss you,’ he said.
She nodded, expecting him to kiss her mouth again, but instead he trailed his lips along her collarbone, then licked and sucked his way down her body—worshipping each yearning spot, each throbbing pulse point—until the ragged moans were queuing up in her throat.
After feasting on her tender nipples, he drew lower to skim kisses over her ribs and circle her belly button before sinking between her thighs. Grasping her buttocks, he lifted her to his mouth.
She sobbed, struggling to catch her breath, to control her fraying emotions, and the shocking pleasure as the explosion of heat and endorphins consumed her.
Fireworks in my belly…
The thought whispered across her consciousness as his tongue swept over the very heart of her, the rasping lick making her hips buck. A groan broke free.
‘Shh…’ he murmured.
But then he captured the tight bundle of nerves—already so needy, already so swollen—and sucked hard.
She cried out, soaring up, the fireworks exploding from her core to cascade through her entire body.
He held her hips, worked her with his lips, demanding more. The waves of pleasure built again, too fast. Another brutal climax crashed over her, layering on top of the last, intensifying the explosion, forcing her to ride the inferno.
At last, he allowed her to collapse onto the bed, exhausted, spent.
He rose above her, his gaze fierce. Bracketing her hips, he angled her pelvis and pressed the huge erection against her core, before thrusting hard and deep to claim her completely.
The brutally stretched feeling overwhelmed her, before the sharp pinch of pain made her flinch. And gasp.
He stopped, lodged so deep inside her she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.
He buried his face in her hair, swore in Catalan, then lifted his head to bracket her face with unsteady hands.
‘Am I your first lover, Cerys?’ he said, his voice husky with shock.
‘I… Yes,’ she whispered, positive she had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, so taken before.
He swore again.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, sure she had done something wrong. Why else would he look so horrified? ‘I should have said something…’ Although of course, until this moment, she hadn’t been sure…
‘Do not apologise,’ he whispered, his thumb stroking her lips, his expression devastated. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘No, not at all,’ she lied. Whatever she’d done, she didn’t want to make this even worse.
He shifted slightly and she winced before she could stop herself.
A wary smile curved his lips, the devastation gone from his eyes, to be replaced by something strained, and guarded, and a lot less revealing.
‘Did you lie to me, Cerys?’ he asked.
She tried to smile back, but emotion tightened her throat—because the moment of connection felt lost. For a second, he had looked at her as if she mattered to him, and it had felt so good to really matter to someone.
‘No… I… It’s just not super comfortable,’ she managed.
‘Then I must be gentler,’ he said, the strain in his face making her heart thump her ribs.
Stroking her hips, he drew his hand down until his thumb delved to locate the place where their bodies joined.
She moaned as he circled and caressed the tender bud, making her buck against his touch.
‘Does this help?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘Yes… Please, do it again.’
He let out a strained chuckle. But then he caressed the perfect spot until she was panting, moving against him, forced to impale herself more on the rigid erection to find relief.
He groaned and stopped stroking her, to hold her hips. ‘I must move, Cerys, but you must tell me if I hurt you.’
‘Okay.’ She sighed, so close to the edge now, she didn’t care what he did, as long as he did something .
He drew out. So slowly, so carefully. Then sank back, to fill her impossibly again. She moaned, the pleasure immense, the discomfort fading, to be replaced by a delicious coil of tension deep in her sex.
‘Is it okay?’ he asked.
‘Yes, please, but move faster… I need more.’
‘Yes, Cerys.’ His low chuckle at her demands made her smile, even as he began to move faster, thrust harder.
Her sobs joined his grunts as he rolled his hips to drive deeper. Until she was clinging to his shoulders, meeting those steady, punishing thrusts to take even more.
She groaned, yearning for more, even though it felt impossible to take more. The pressure on her chest became almost as immense as the pressure between her thighs.
He clasped her buttocks to thrust into her to the hilt, to brand her as his completely. Her body gathered, tightened—reaching, rising—and soared again.
The raw pleasure—which had felt so far out of reach only minutes before—crashed over her as he shouted out his own release, and they flew over together at last.
* * *
Cerys lay in the shadowy room, floating in a cloud of bliss, only vaguely aware of the shocking emotions stirring inside her.
Scary, enormous emotions. Until Santiago shifted.
He was still there , still so large and firm inside her, the weight of his muscular body pressing her into the mattress, making her aware of every part of her which felt tender, sore—and utterly, totally alive for the first time in her life.